I’ve had this urge to write something since this afternoon. The problem is, I don’t know what to write. It’s like something is in there trying to get out, but it can’t find the way. I blame it on Facebook, where shallowness seems to reign supreme. I know Facebook has it’s uses – I’ve reconnected with friends I haven’t heard from in many, many years, and for a while I used it to communicate with my daughter at college, until she decided I was monitoring her activities too closely. I wasn’t, but perception often counts as much as reality, so I pretty much leave her alone now as far as Facebook is concerned. But Farmtown and Farmville and the countless other games and activities there tend to outweight the better points, and I find myself going less and less. It has it’s uses, but like a radial arm saw, not as many as you might have originally envisioned.
One thing about living in the Deep South is that gardening doesn’t have to stop when late fall and winter arrive. Maybe that’s what I was going to write about. I’ve got pansies to plant – and is there any flower with a more inappropriate name than the pansy? Pansies can be coated with ice and resume blooming as soon as the ice melts. You can plant them in September and they’ll bloom until May. That’s one heck of a return on the investment. I’ve also got dozens of tulip bulbs to get in the ground. Mississippi doesn’t generally have enough sustained cold weather to “set” the flower, so we have to refrigerate tulips for 6 weeks or so. And too often I let them stay longer, and end up planting them on a cold, wet January day. The tulips don’t care – they’ll still bloom – but my hands do. I really intended to plant them today, but I worked at our latest Habitat house this morning, and had to run a few errands this afternoon, and once again the day passed with the bulbs still in the frig. Maybe tomorrow, I hear that’s another day.